


The Price of Wisdom

by rusting_roses



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Explanations Abound, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rusting_roses/pseuds/rusting_roses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With such secrets, the center cannot hold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of Wisdom

There was but one man in all of Asgard who could summon her King.

Heimdall bowed before Odin Allfather and spoke the words that would change everything: "Loki yet lives."

~*~

Thor dismounted, hands gentle as he led Bjarte to the hostlers. The horse's withers were streaked with sweat, and like his rider, his gait was weary. Before handing the stubborn creature to his caretakers, Thor rubbed his fingers along Bjarte's neck and the horse nickered softly and butted up against Thor's chest. The simple affection made Thor's fingers tighten for a moment. "Oats for him, and fresh grapes." With winter almost upon them, the fresh fruit would be worth its weight in silver, but Thor cared nothing for the cost. In the long year since—since _everything_ , few things gave him the genuine pleasure of galloping full tilt in the wilderness beyond Asgard, attempting to outstrip the wind.

Thor had learned to place his duty first in so many things—he felt he could be selfish in this.

"Of course, my prince," one of the hostlers agreed blandly with a bow. He reached out for the reins, and Thor reluctantly handed them over. Absurd loneliness rose in his throat. His mother had counseled time and again that mourning listened to nothing but one's own heart, but Thor wearied of this endless sorrow.

"Prince Thor! The Allfather demands your immediate presence!" Thor turned at the sound, startled, as a young man in servant's livery raced down the path to the stables. The servant was panting when he stopped, face flushed red despite the chill that was creeping through the air. He made the barest of bows, though Thor had no interest in such civilities at the moment. "I am to take you to him right away!"

Thor stared at the man for a second. He couldn't remember the last time his father had summoned him with such haste. The frantic air to the servant ensured this was no mockery. Thor's heart picked up speed as sick, twisting dread made its home in his chest. He had lost so much already—was there yet more pain to be visited upon him? How much could the Norns rest upon his shoulders before even the Thunderer was felled? Without another word, he faced the palace.

"Where?" Thor demanded softly.

"The great audience hall. He—" the rest of what might have been said was lost as Thor sprinted away.

Thor darted past any number of people without the least concern for whether he had done them injury. His only thought was for what could have driven the mighty Allfather to summon Thor before him without pomp or ceremony, what his father had said to put such a look of strained desperation on the servant's face.

Thor would have found it laughable on any other occasion, the way the guards' eyes widened with shock as he barreled down the hallway. He just barely managed to stop in time, sliding to a halt through sheer will alone. He took half a second to straighten his clothing, wishing for a foolish, desperate moment that Loki was around to make him look clean and proper with a spell. He'd done it often enough when they were boys, unwilling to get in trouble for mischief, and for a moment the ever-present ache in Thor's chest was a live brand.

He quashed the feeling with ruthless practice, and when he was as composed as he would ever be, he gestured sharply for the guards to open the doors. They did so with ponderous dignity, and Thor swept in as though he was dressed in all the finery of Asgard. As though he had no fear of what was to come.

Another thing he'd learned from Loki.

Odin Allfather awaited him on the dais, but he did not stand on ceremony. Not a formal matter, then. "Thor," he greeted, Gungnir in one hand. "Walk with me, my son." It was not a request. His father took him immediately to the balcony, high above the city of Asgard, where the words would be stolen from their lips almost before being spoken. Caution, then.

"What is it, Father?" Thor hissed. He reached out his hand, but while there was a new understanding between them, the Allfather's visage was cold and stern. He was distant in a way Thor had not seen since before his banishment. "Father, tell me," he cried, more earnest now.

The Allfather reached out, clenching the railing tight in his fists. "Your brother lives."

For such simple words, it took Thor an embarrassingly long time to comprehend them. "I—How? Where? What did he—but he fell! I—I saw him fall!" Thor stammered. "The Bifröst was broken and you said yourself that he had fallen into the spaces between worlds!" The words sounded angry, and Thor wasn't, not truly, he just didn't understand. Couldn't understand. Loki—Loki was _alive_.

"Is he alright? Where is he? Why has he not returned—has someone been keeping him from us?" His fingers twitched, Mjölnir's voice singing in his veins. He would tear asunder any who dared to keep his brother from the Wielder of the Storm. The questions piled upon themselves, until Thor couldn't give voice to any of them. "Father!"

Odin Allfather turned an ancient blue eye to him. Thor swallowed at the old pain present there. "Your brother seeks the power of the Tessaract. He has bargained with creatures who would destroy worlds for sport. He plans to take Midgard for his own. His fall has left damage, I fear, damage on a mind already weakened by mistrust and folly."

Thor bit his tongue at that. It was something no one spoke of, except in whispers. Of those last few days in Asgard, of Loki's attempted...of his attempted...

Thor turned his thoughts from the misery. With the Bifröst broken, they were unable to send so much as a missive to Jötunheimr in explanation; Loki was the only sorcerer on Asgard who had bothered with learning the old ways of travel. It had been a bitter medicine, to be unable to visit his beloved Jane, but even he knew that there were far more serious consequences of the lost bridge than merely love. A realm destroyed, a family destroyed; where Thor had once carried hatred, he now carried only guilt and sorrow. "Mistrust and folly," Thor repeated hoarsely. "Indeed. Madness, more like, from—from jealousy needlessly kept in his breast. He was my _brother_." _My shieldmate, my friend, my cunning and wit and logic, my other half. My brother._

"No," his father corrected with terrible gentleness. "Not Loki's mistrust and folly. My own."

Thor could say nothing to that.

Odin Allfather sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. "There is more to Loki's fall than you know, Thor."

For the first time in his entire life, Thor looked at his father and saw a stranger. "What did you do to my brother?" Each word was sharp, embedding itself beneath Odin's skin.

"He is not your brother."

It changes everything.

It changes nothing.

"I don't understand."

Odin told him a story then, of how no one truly wins a war. Of abandonment. Of a hope for a better future for this child and for all children. Of family. Of stories told before a fire, of curiosity, of laughter. Of punishment, of foolishness, of pride. Then—later things. A secret revealed in the worst way possible, of broken trust and agony and endless regret. Of mistakes and too little, too late.

"I thought it best not to tell you," Odin finished quietly. "Better that you remember the good things rather than dwell on the ending. It would do neither you nor Loki any good, for you wrap yourself up in anger and allow it to fester unresolved."

Thor bowed his head, his hair falling around his face. Never a man of many words, he found now that he had lost them all. Loki, a Jötunn—Loki Laufeyson, driven to madness by the revelation of his own heritage as a monster. Thor shuddered at the thought, unable to reconcile the image of Loki stretched out beside him, gazing at the stars, with Asgard's old enemies. So many things were now clear, and as many more shrouded in mystery and horror. Despair and weariness and fury and love and confusion and so much more warred within him. He wiped at his eyes, emotions heavy in his breast. He knew not what to think, as for every instance of cruelty or envy or destruction that his mind displayed, his heart was quick to remind him of Loki's smile, of his cleverness, of his _love_.

Loki, his brother. Whatever else, Thor could not simply abandon their past simply because Loki was not his brother by blood. Loki's heritage could not, _would_ not destroy the hundred thousand memories Thor so greatly cherished.

It was unfair, to have his brother within his reach and yet as lost to him as ever, driven from Thor's welcoming arms by unnecessary fear and hatred; his brother had done terrible things, _evil_ things. He would need to serve his sentence, but surely there could be joy afterwards, the lost child returned to his family. So it had been with Thor—his exile had been well deserved, regardless of Loki's hand in it, and Thor had done as much evil against Jötunheimr as Loki himself had. The only difference was that Thor had sullied the hands of his family and friends, those he claimed to love.

Thor found himself thinking time of again of how this could all have been prevented if only Odin had told Loki the truth. Sharp, sudden anger brewed and Thor found himself shouting at his father, "Why didn't you _tell him_? Do you have so little faith in your _sons_?"

Odin turned his face away, but not before Thor saw the shame there. Whatever else, his father had lost a son as surely as Thor had lost a brother. He bit his lips hard enough for a bright bead of blood to well up as he attempted to restrain further harsh words.

His father was quiet for long moments.

"When I first touched him, Loki's Jötunn skin changed to that of an Aesir's. Even so young he carried within him a fierce talent for magic, and I thought it a sign from the Norns. Here was an opportunity to atone for the Jötunn blood I had spilled, no matter how righteous I believed the war. Here was an innocent child that I might bring to understand that the Aesir were no more monsters than the Jötunn were. Here was a chance for our sons to learn from the mistakes of Laufey and I, of greed and pride and wrath. I would have you raised as brothers, so that when the day came, that you would rule this realm, peace would finally replace the war-mongering.

"Of course, despite my impulse to raise him as my own, I was not unaware of the struggles we might yet face. He had been exposed for hours and was chilled to the bone; there was no guarantee that he would even survive the coming sunrise. I wrapped him in my cloak, using magic of my own to hide his presence. I did not think one of my men would kill him, but I would not risk it, could not bear to see him harmed.

"Even when we finally made it home, trouble haunted my decision. I knew not whether Frigga would accept the babe. I knew not whether the spell that disguised him would fail and leave him exposed to the loathing of Asgard. I knew not many things, even with all the wisdom given to me by Mimir's Well, but I could not come to regret my actions." Odin sighed, shaking his head, but his eyes remained distant, as though he was once more holding the helpless child in his arms.

"In the end, it truly seemed as if we had been blessed by the Norns. Not a murmur was spoken against the circumstances of Frigga's hidden pregnancy—so we claimed was the reason for the sudden appearance of a second child, as you may recall from your youth—and Frigga welcomed Loki with open arms and an open heart. She loved the child as I did, on sight and completely. He was ours in everything but blood, and with so much joy, blood seemed like a paltry means of measurement.

"We intended to tell him, truly. When he was older, more mature. When he might see it not as a curse, but just as another part of himself, as integral as his magical talent. We only hoped that his disguise would not fail before then, that his height would not mark him out as a Giant...no child should be burdened with the knowledge that they were taken from an enemy who had abandon them as worthless. No child should fear that they are not wanted by their parents. We wanted him to grown up knowing he was ours.

"As he grew, not once did his disguise falter, not once was he anything but Prince Loki Odinson of Asgard. Not once did he show any predilection for ice magic, as even the lowliest Jötunn can manage, and Frigga and I thought ourselves safe. Oh, he was mischievous enough, and inclined towards trouble, but no more than any boy, or so we believed. And he was so loyal to you, his brother, though we saw his jealousy of your companions, of your good cheer, of your happiness..." Odin's voice caught for the first time, and Thor realized with unpleasant shock that his father's voice was thick with tears.

Thor closed his eyes against the desperate outpouring of words. The clung to Thor's skin with a weight only Loki's words had ever managed, and it was another shock to realize that this was more than just an explanation.

This was a _confession_.

Odin cleared his throat damply, and continued, "As you boys grew, less and less often I discussed the matter of Loki's true heritage." He smiled, and it was bitter and cracked. It looked like Loki's had, before he'd fallen, and Thor had to swallow against rising bile. "Frigga warned me that the center could never hold around such a secret, that we would need to be there for him, to reassure him of our love. She feared that we were losing him, but I could not bear the thought of further agony then being heaped upon Loki—for what sort of reassurance would it be to confirm that he was different? What good could come of admitting that he was not of our blood? Surely all he would see was his worst nightmares confirmed, the ones that haunt all children at some time or another.

"I was Odin Allfather, King of Asgard, who had sacrificed an eye to Mimir's Well, that I might gain wisdom!" he roared, and the fierceness of the words had Thor trembling. "I believed it was my _wisdom_ that was saving Loki pain, rather than hiding my inability to voice such a truth, to reassure my child as he so needed it, to talk of how I had hoped to forge peace between Asgard and Jötunheimr. It was easier, simpler, to say one day longer, one day longer. Surely it did not matter, surely Loki would not even care about his origins, surely he knew how beloved he was. Then, by the time the center broke, it was far too late. I was weary, unable to tell Loki what he so desperately needed to hear, just as I feared I would. I failed him.

"I forgot how love, like hate, can cloud one's judgment...and what we have lost, what Loki has lost, far outweighs an eye."

The ringing silence that fell after that admission was undisturbed for long moments. Thor's clumsy tongue knew not how to speak the comforts needed here, and a part of him didn't want to alleviate his father's obvious pain. "Now Loki has returned, yet remains lost to us. We have no hope but that Loki will hear of our grief, hear of our wish for his return, hear of our love." His father turned to him, hands coming up to grip Thor's forearms, suddenly passionate. "Thor, you must bring Loki home to us. He must face his actions, but all hope is not yet gone. He is still my son, still your brother, and will be so until the death of Yggdrasil and the loss of the nine realms in Fire and Ice."

The Allfather bowed his head in submission. Thor could only stare at the top of his father's head, blurred by tears of Thor's own. "Please. Bring Loki home."

~*~

Thor stood before the portal the Allfather had constructed from dark energy. It pulsed strangely in the air, making the hair at the back of Thor's neck stand on end. As he stared at the entrance, he wondered whether he would be able to change Loki's mind, whether Loki would trust Thor enough to return home. Once he would have agreed without thought. Loki had been Thor's other half since they were old enough to toddle. In the intervening days since the Allfather's revelation, however, Thor had been unable to keep from dwelling on the events of their youth and Thor's time on Midgard.

Loki had so much pain in his heart, and whatever role his heritage had played in his madness, Loki had hated Thor too, by the end. Over and over again Thor couldn't help but return to the evil he'd done to Loki in his youth and since, and the evil Loki had done to him in return, of their rage and their folly and evil—of the rage and folly and evil that Loki was doing even now. Heimdall had told him of Loki's actions while the Allfather gathered the necessary energy to transport Thor to Midgard, much to the agony of Thor's heart.

Loki had done evil, planned on doing still more, but Thor loved him.

Sometimes Thor feared he would always love his brother.


End file.
